


Breaking Taboo

by Kasamira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Chess Metaphors, Forest of Dean (Harry Potter), Friendship, Gen, Guerrilla Warfare, Hurt/Comfort, Ron is not stupid, Snatchers (Harry Potter), St. Mungo's Healers (Harry Potter), Strategy & Tactics, Taboo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasamira/pseuds/Kasamira
Summary: "Hermione you're the brains, the planning, the perfect execution, but you couldn't see three moves ahead in chess against a first year. Leave the strategy to me,""And what's Harry in that flattering evaluation?"A smile. When was the last time Ron had smiled at her like that?"Harry's the hammer."
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This always seemed like a missing opportunity that Ron, of all people, would have seen.

_Pop-pop-pop_

They echoed too loud- Apparation still ringing through the air as she tears out of stillness- just in time to feel Anti-Apparation Wards crash down like straps across her chest. There was movement behind her, laughter. 

_Howls_. 

Frost had turned the world silver and gleaming. A new moon hung in the sky, it's gaping maw stretched darkness over the forest below. There was an edge to this darkness, a cold wind was blowing out of the east, it made the trees creak and moan, the branches rustle like living hands grasping the darkness. Rough bark cradled her cheek, a smear trailing the trunk leaving gleaming black in her wake. 

A low snarl echoed across bare trees and ice. 

Hermione's head hit wood, fighting hot bile that rose up in her chest and throat. 

Something sharp rasped. A long, loud trail growing nearer with ever passing moment.

_Nails_ , she realized. _Nail beds on wood._

Every breath burned, and it was a constant fight not to gasp air. _Quiet_. But her lungs were greedy, gulping louder than was wise. Fear slithered hot up her throat as snow crunched closer. Voices were coming, nearer and nearer; rough, excited voices. 

"Just one signature," one rasped. 

"Come out! We know you're there. Come out now girlie, and we won't hurt you." 

A coughing laugh echoed across the woods. 

Hermione bit back a sob and tasted iron.

How many? How many were there? More than two, not more than ten surely. Every creaking branch was another foot against the snow, a cloak fluttering in the darkness. The cool fingers brushed her hair and Hermione almost screamed.

_Wind_.

Mist coalesced the night air, puffs of ice and water danced in front of her mouth. She could smell the smoke now, stinging her eyes and throat. 

_Stay quiet._

One hand curled around her wand, despite the cold her fingers were slick on wood, and Hermione sent a silent prayer she wouldn't lose her grip now. Not now. Not tonight. She hoped it was sweat and not.. 

Her other hand was shoved deep in her pocket, clenched tight around cold metal. It bite into her skin, but she couldn't have let go even if she'd wanted to. 

"I can smell you girlie," the voice rasped. 

_Closer_. 

"Smells young, ripe. Come out girl, we'll find you soon enough."

"Or run," another voice called out, "haven't played in a while." 

It was a werewolf. If it was a werewolf, he could smell her, smell everything even on a full moon. She'd be like a beacon, the only hot flesh in the snow, a laugh bubbled up her throat. She must be like a neon sign lighting up the wood. 

But he'd be fresh, fresh off the full moon and weak from transforming.

" _Homenum revelio_!" 

_No_. 

A pulse of gold illuminated her eyelids. Burning, searching, a gush washed over her, stripping her bare, leaving ozone in its wake. 

"Oh no, fu-" 

She _ran_. 

A pale shadow gliding over the wood. She was the fastest, faster than even Harry but her feet had been left unsilenced. They cracked against the frozen snow, leaving footprints, kicking up dead leaves. One hand clutched her wand, the other wrapped around cold gold. Leaving a trail even humans could follow, with the werewolf she might as well have shrieked her presence and sent out a formal invitation. 

  
_What sort of fool ran from a werewolf_ , she thought half hysterically. 

Professor Snape's voice echoed in her head. 

_"Werewolves are predatory beasts, if you are ever so foolish as to encounter one on the full moon, it will savage you. If the animal is feeling kind, it will rip out your throat. There is only one piece of advice that may save your miserable lives. Do not run. Never turn your back on them, do not become prey. Wolves are coursing predators, and werewolves are much the same. Cautious beasts when alone, bold in large numbers. They hunt in packs to separate and surround prey, the animals will herd prey for hours to... amuse themselves. To build fear. If you run, you invite violence."_

_"Run and you are prey, and animals enjoy their prey bloody."_

Something sharp caught her hair.

Hermione _screamed_. 

Her wand came up on instinct, a _Diffindo_ striking true and receiving a snarl in answer. 

Something had torn in her throat. 

Further and _further_ smooth ground was coming. The pathway was up ahead, past this thicket of trees and snow, if she could only reach the path. How far out did the anti-apparation wards reach? They couldn't cover the entire Forest of Dean. She saw the map in he mind's eye, and Ron's hand tracing the trees, the clearing, the path's smooth dirt way. 

Wands were glowing on either side of her, behind her, and now... in front of her. 

Her coin _burned,_ her hand squeezed in answer, and she _dropped_. 

_"Lumos maxima!"_

_"Bombarda!"_

Light leapt from her wand like flames kissing the night. Behind closed lids, fire burned red and all Hermione could hear were _their_ screams. 

The wands glowing around her descended on blinded and deafened men. Hermione cancelled the spell, when she opened her eyes the after lights smudged green along the edges of her vision. But the werewolf was on the ground, shrieking bloody murder. There was blood around his eyes and on his claws dripping down wetly, and steaming pinpricks in the snow. 

Another Snatcher's robe was bloody and torn where his arm should have, that one wasn't screaming. 

"Stupefy!" 

Harry was to her right, in front of her dueling three at once. But they were slower, still gasping for breath from the run, half blinded most of their curses went wide snapping branches off trees and blowing holes in trunks. Harry was fresh, shield charm in place, dodging purple jets of light that Hermione recognized as Cruciatus. 

Ron was on her left flank, red flames licked off his shield spilling and hissing against frost bitten ground. He was backlit by fires, fending off another Snatcher with more scrambling behind, nearly glowing in the crouching night. Ron kept advancing, not yet returning fire, but trying to keep pace with Harry. 

Their voices from days past rose in her mind, their roles in all this. 

_"Hermione you're the brains, the planning, the perfect execution, but you couldn't see three moves ahead in chess against a first year. Leave the strategy to me,"_

_"And what's Harry in that flattering evaluation?"_

_A smile. When was the last time Ron had smiled at her like that?_

_"Harry's the hammer."_

Another Snatcher rose, Hermione stood over him. 

A second later he crumpled, bonds erupted from her wand, snaking their way around the man. 

"Levicorpus," he flew upwards, coming to a snapping stop in midair. 

The werewolf joined him.

*

Late in the afternoon, Hermione had left the tent with a baleful glance under the pretense of fishing or scouring the bare hedges for non-existent blackberries. They continued their on going exchange of news over a game of Wizard's Chess, Ron's knight had just finished assaulting Harry's pawn, when Harry finally finished telling the whole story of his and Hermione's various wanderings.

"Mate you were better than this last year," the broken pawn slowly dragged itself off the board, stone flesh flaked and grinding in a crumpled heap.

"Haven't had much chance to practice," Hermione tolerated chess on the best of days, after Ron had left the board was only a jagged remind of his absence.

Ron looked away, eyes flickering to the tent flap before returning to gaze at the board. Shifting uncomfortably, Harry quickly filled Ron in on what had happened at Godric’s Hollow; In turn, Ron eagerly shared everything he had discovered about the wider wizarding world during his weeks away.

"… and how did you find out about the Taboo?" he asked Harry, after explaining the many desperate attempts of Muggle-borns to evade the Ministry.

"The what?"

"You and Hermione have stopped saying You-Know-Who’s name!"

"Oh, yeah. Well, it’s just a bad habit we’ve slipped into," said Harry. "But I haven’t got a problem calling him V—"

"NO!" roared Ron, half rising over the table, sending pieces flying to the floor. Harry nearly joined them as Ron clapped hand over his mouth, hissing for him to

_"Don't say his name!"_

The tent flap burst open, Hermione, windswept with wand in hand and blackberry basket nowhere in sight emerged, looking ready to hex anything that moved. 

‘Sorry, sorry. Bloody hell, it's alright.’ said Ron, wrenching back from Harry, and raising his hands up peaceably. 

"I heard shouting, I thought..." she'd thought someone was attacking them. 

Ron still looked frantic, tension had his hands curling into fists on the table, eyes darting between the two of them. 

"It's the name, the name’s been jinxed, that’s how they track people! Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes some kind of magical disturbance – it’s how they found us in Tottenham Court Road!"

"Because we used his name?" 

"Exactly!"

Ron rose from his seat, rubbing at his forehead, pacing the length of the tent with nervous energy. 

"You’ve got to give them credit, it makes sense. It was only people who were serious about standing up to him, like Dumbledore, who ever dared use it. Now they’ve put a Taboo on it, anyone who says it is trackable – quick and easy way to find Order members!"

He gave a bitter laugh, "That's how they nearly got Kingsley –"

"You’re kidding?"

"Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out. He’s on the run now, just like us."

"I've never heard of a Taboo," Hermione said, "a magical disturbance..." she tucked her wand away, going over to her beaded purse and muttering to herself. Rapidly books began to appear around her, pulled out in record time, even as a frown began to tighten the corners of her mouth. 

The opportunity to research something tangible seemed a welcome distraction. 

"It's a jinx on his name, tells Snatchers where you are and tears down magical protections so they can drop in easier." 

Hermione stopped flipping through her book, finger holding her place, to look up at him. 

"It takes down wards?" Harry wasn't imagining the note of panic in her voice, "It can't, we said _You-Know-Who's_ name at Grimmauld-" 

She stopped. 

"That's why they were always outside, circling the street," Harry finished, "We were right, they knew we were there, but it couldn't break through the Fidelius." 

"The Black wards are old, you've seen the family tapestry they've lived in that house for decades, or swindled it from some Muggle a hundred years ago. It's dark magic, but bloody strong. Long as someone with Black blood lives there the wards would be fueled with family magic. They'd grow stronger over time," Ron shrugged, "that's why most Wizarding families have lived on the same land for centuries." 

Hermione was staring at Ron like she'd never seen him before. 

"Mate, how do you know that?" Harry asked

" 'S common sense, innit? Works just like the enchantments at Hogwarts, or near enough-" he added when Hermione seemed to regain her voice, mouth opening to interject. "Long as there's magical folk in the area, the wards take a bit of the extra."

Harry was struck by how much Ron's common sense went unsaid. When he did speak up it was always like this, like the red head was just stating the blindingly obvious, and Harry felt like he was eleven all over again watching the bricks of Diagon part beneath Hagrid's pink umbrella. 

"All the Order's member's constantly in and out of Number 12 would have certainly been a battery recharge," he muttered. 

Ron mouthed _batt-er-y._

Harry bent down to begin picking up the fallen chess pieces scattered across the tent.

"If that's true, then the Taboo would rip my enchantments apart. We change them so often, never stay in one place, I don't know how to hide the wards either- all a Snatcher would need to do is illuminate my enchantments and they'd know someone was there." Hermione's voice was growing high and tight, she nearly upended a bottle of ink in her haste to dip the quill. 

"It must work like Trace, but instead of detecting magic it detects words by magical people. It can't be everyone, Vo- _his name_ is just French, every time someone said it they'd be dropping in on Muggles all across the continent. It _must be_ like the Trace. I just don't understand how you could cast it on an entire population, but if it's recent that means it's not as powerful." a manic little laugh ripped it's way from her chest.

Harry and Ron's eyes met over Hermione's head. 

Hermione's hand shook, half her palm was smudged black with ink, and he'd never seen her writing so unintelligible. Words poured from the girl's mouth in a rush, half of them he couldn't make out, and the rest weren't much better. 

"-not powerful _now_ , a double edged sword isn't it! Longer it's in effect, more people say his name the stronger it is. _Insidious_. Feeds off the magic of its _victims_ \- some kind of parasite- utter invasion of privacy- what happens in a month-a year- dozens, hundreds could say his name and it would just grow _stronger_ each time-" 

Quill scratched across parchment, digging deeper with each line, Harry felt is hand twitch and he turned away rubbing his flesh- 

_I must not tell lies._

-half wanting to lay a hand on her shoulder, but knowing it would do no good. 

" _Damn it all!_ " 

Her quill had torn clean through the paper, and gouged a mark into the wood below. 

Harry retrieved a white rook that had scuttled underneath a chair across the room. When he returned Ron was staring at the fallen pieces, brow furrowed, scratching his chin thoughtfully with the end of his wand.

"Hang on, Harry." 

A flick of his wand and the pieces floated up onto the table, aligning themselves strangely across the board. 

"Pretty sure the pieces weren't like that, Ron." 

Ron looked up at Harry, an odd smile stretching his face. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Ron smile like that. 

"You ever heard of King's Gambit?" 


	2. Aftermath

Malfoy Manor rose out of rolling Wiltshire hills, growing steadily out of the darkness at the end of a straight drive. A single point of white light in the grey gloom of morning, it was lit from within lights glinting in diamond paned windows, and high hedges curving beyond a pair of impressive wrought iron gates.

Wind rustled the hedge leaves, whispering softly making the hedges creak and sway. Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing, waters dripping black and glittering under the new moon's dappled sky. Peacocks in a multitude of colors were the only life that made noise, darting between perches and leaving piles of shit behind them. 

A stifling silence seemed to emanate from the house, voices were never raised beyond hushed murmurings. Even the pale faced portraits whose eyes followed all were unusually silent. 

A sharp _snap snap_ echoed in the drawing room. 

Then the screams started. 

*

"King's Gambit?" 

For the first time in a long time Ron looked excited.

"It's about the most fun you can have in chess," he gestured down at the chess board with his wand, the pieces flew back into starting position.

"It's an opening for white," a smile twitched across Harry's lips, he could appreciate the symmetry of that.

"Your pieces fly out, pawns rage forward, you sacrifice with wild abandon and capture even more in the confusion," careful movements of Ron's wand followed each command, and the pieces leapt to his command, like well beaten foes.

Black was smashed. 

"-and announce mate on move 18. It's best for blitz games, you don't want to linger too long, can't give them time to think. You hit fast, and you hit hard, never giving them time to advance. That's the key, the game has to be short, otherwise you over extend yourself, if they have time to think to long, think positionally, it won't go right."

Here Ron paused, emotions flitting too quickly across his face to make out. 

"It's a dangerous game." 

Hermione stepped forward. 

She took a seat on Black's side. 

"They'll underestimate us, if they think it's only one they won't be prepared for an ambush." 

She paused, her hand playing over black's queen restlessly, her fingers stained like an old bruise from picking berries. 

"If they think it's just some _Mudblood girl_ on the run, they'll never look for an ambush." 

*

"What do we do with them?" 

They'd apparated out of the Forest of Dean as soon as the Snatchers had been tied up and stunned. There had been eight of them, two were dead, and the rest were unconscious. One had gotten away, and it had taken them too much precious time to trace him back through the woods. 

_Thank Merlin for the anti-Apparition wards,_ Harry had thought grimly, _or the Snatcher would have gotten away_. 

Caught in their own trap. 

Harry was crouched next to one of the bodies, jerking his sleeve up to expose pale unmarked flesh.

His breath caught in his throat, this one hadn't been a Death Eater, when he looked up at the man's face Harry realized that he was barely a man at all. Their age, maybe a year or two older. A fist size bruise covered one eye, purple stain covered half his face. 

He was their age, barely out of Hogwarts. 

It had felt so good. So right, fighting them. Fire had lit his veins, and the entire world had faded away. It had just been him and his wand, the holly wood had never felt so right in his fingers. 

Now all that had faded. He just felt cold, his hands were shaking, and the night's chill had made his fingers numb. His skin didn't sparkle and crack with spell fire anymore, and the darkness felt empty, not alive. 

_He should look older,_ Harry thought.

_No he should be older._

The other one had a Dark Mark.

Harry wondered if that should make him feel better. 

"We should drop them off at Malfoy Manor." 

Hermione's gaze snapped up to his. 

"If we leave them here someone will come looking for them eventually, they'll be found either way but it won't mean anything. If we drop them off on _You-Know-Who's_ door step, it'll send a message." 

Hermione's expression sharpened. 

"Let them come, and we'll send them back to you in pieces." 

Harry felt a little blank. His stomach hollow at Hermione's words. 

The locket's golden chain glinted at the hollow of her throat. 

"We'll need a Dark Mark to send them back," Ron said, already moving towards the hanging unconscious men. 

Wand at the ready, he slashed their sleeves one by one, and got a Dark Mark on his third man. 

"Wait." 

Hermione's gaze was darting between the bodies on the ground, to the ones under heavy incarcareous. 

"Once they land in Malfoy Manor the Death Eaters could track them back to us, we need to decide what we're going to do with _them_ first."

She gestured to the others swaying in the air.

"We have two options. We kill them or we let them live." 

Harry and Ron were silent.

In his minds eye he still saw the black and white checkered board, it had felt better when this was a game. 

He'd known, known since fifth year he'd have to kill Voldemort. Kill him or be killed by him. Was this any different? He'd already killed two of the Snatchers, him or Ron or Hermione, he didn't know which.

_Was that self defense if you laid the trap?_

"What if we just leave them here?" Ron said quietly. "Tie them to a tree, send those three to Malfoy's, and leave." 

"Riddle will kill them. Or have someone else kill them." Torture them first went unsaid. 

Was that better? Voldemort doing his dirty work, his guts were roiling at the thought. 

"If we don't kill them, they'll end up dead either way." Hermione logical as ever. 

Why did it feel like things were spinning out of control faster than he could keep up. 

"No." Harry's voice was firm. "We need answers, we need to know anything they can tell us about what Vo- _You-Know-Who_ is planning. And there's a third option. We make an example out of them." 

*

Diagon Alley was under curfew. Men in black cloaks and bone white masks patrolled at all hours day and night. It was late autumn, and mist still hung over the ground in morning. It had been cloudy for weeks, the sun rarely peeking out behind clouds to chase the fog away. Grey gloom and black skies still hung over the earth until past eight in the morning. By nine, people were darting in and out of businesses like rats. Furtive scurrying with their heads down going about their days. 

Anti Apparition wards were let down so businesses could open, Ollivanders was a still a smoking ruin, windows smashed, wands still jumped and skittered among the coals. Decades of work had been put to the torch, and now no one was brave enough to venture into the ruins. Unstable wands were no one's business, and liable to go off at the slightest touch. 

No one would be getting new wands for a long time. 

Madam Malkin was making mostly black robes now. 

Her robes were the blue of a trainee Healer, she still had a year of training, before she could specialize. Maybe not even then, they were talking of only allowing Purebloods to become full Healers. 

Angelina was running late. Her shift started in five minutes and she was still in line at the Apparition point, St. Mungo's had fire called in a panic, or in as controlled a panic as Healers got. 

Still, she knew what the iron control control, the Healer's face cost them. There was a reason most Medwitches and Healers were so proficient at Occlumency, a day in the Curse Ward would send any soul to a Mind Healer. 

Still, she was far more fortunate than most. Her mind drifted to Fred, before she forcefully put that away. Thinking of any Weasley so close to Death Eaters, eyes averted or not, was a sure way to find yourself _disappeared_. 

When she finally reached the checkpoint Angie had checked her watch fifteen times. She'd been called in as soon as the Floo opened, but unable to step through from her end, a code blue and she had to stand here waiting, hand over papers for inspection, so she could go to _bloody_ work on an emergency call.

_It wasn't as though she was fomenting revolution,_ Angie thought bitterly. _Some Gryffindor I am, strong, and brave, and true._

Wanted posters hung around her, covering every available surface. Undesirable No 1's accusing eyes stared down at her. That was another reason she didn't look up. 

She would have been there already if her Floo wasn't blocked because she was a half-blood and therefore not trusted enough to be able to travel between her own home and wo-

_crack crack crack_

Angelina's wand was out, and a Shield Charm up before the last crack had finished echoing through Diagon Alley.

Morning rays of light reflected off it, and once she was certain there was no one attacking she let it slip down, fear curdling in her stomach at the sight before her. 

The Death Eater at the checkpoint didn't even spare her a glance. 

Bodies. Three of them.

They hung, suspended upside down by invisible ropes, and it took Angelina a moment to realize they were alive. Thrashing in their bonds, screaming in rage. One eyes were just gaping pits, flaking red blood dropping of his cheeks, with long claws.

_Werewolf s_ ome part of her realized. 

Hovering in front of each was a snapped wand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're losing the propaganda war, I love the idea of an underground radio like Potter Watch, but widespread ground support won't last long if everyone believes their on the losing side. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I tried taking a step back to emphasize how *hollow* and blank everyone is feeling, from Angelina working as a medwitch day in and day out, I can't imagine how awful that would be- treating people you know to be Death Eaters and feeling like you've betrayed your side. There is a fantastic work called The Inevitable Hour by IamShadow21 that focuses on Fred and Angelina I was a bit inspired by. 
> 
> Please drop a review, I love hearing feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Queen's Gambit is really popular right now, but King's Gambit is a saucy, aggressive opening that was popular during the Romantic Era of chess. Some of the most famous games every played used this opening, it's not nearly so popular now. But I thought a historic opening would be more in line with the Wizarding World and after months of being pent up and restrained, I believe Harry, Ron, and Hermione would find something this aggressive... cathartic.


End file.
